Grief Has No Timeline

Grief is not a topic I usually write about on this blog, but on February 4th and 13th I lost two very good friends to unexpected medical events. Both were moms in the prime of raising their boys. Two women who genuinely loved working with children and embracing them unconditionally.

The one I wanted to highlight here at Maple Key is our own tutor, Michelle Haddock who passed away after a severe asthma attack. She was able to be with us for the first week on the farm this year and wrote responses to all the students’ journals. She faithfully tutored one of our students in poetry, creative writing, and literature at the downtown library every week and loved her special connection with her.

Before she came to work for Maple Key, we got to know each other through our work at a local small library. I knew Michelle and I were going to be good friends after she was hired when she began talking about all the children’s literature she enjoyed reading. We would chat all the time about the programming we were working on along with all of our visions for the future of the library. She co-wrote the grant we were awarded in order to bring gardening to the library. Every day she had so much joy, knowledge, and humbleness in her spirit that she freely gave to others in her life. The other tutors at Maple Key and the library are still in deep mourning over her encouraging heart no longer being with us.

Here is what the library posted on its Facebook page:

It has been a difficult few weeks figuring out moment by moment how to manage deep feelings of loss while comforting others in the same loss. You just hug, cry, make a meal, write a condolence card, send a text to your other hurting friends and do it all over again the next day. That’s all you can do when you still can’t get your mind around the absence, the loss of what could have been.

Michelle loved to write and read and reflect. Our co-worker remembered she had started a blog to capture some of her greatest joys — her own children. Her post for her oldest son on his birthday beautifully explained her whole heart:

I have continued to fail you, over and over and over again…. and you forgive me, over and over and over again. You have the most resilient and forgiving spirit of any person I have ever met. Perhaps, it is simply because you have no choice. Walking two newbie parents through life requires one to have thick-skin, to survive all their missteps. But what is so precious about your forgiveness, as I watch you extend it to others and feel it given to myself….is that it is done so completely.  Once you decide to forgive, the slate is washed clean. My hope for you as you enter this new part of your life- the part where many of the hurts that you will carry through the rest of your life will occur- is that you keep that superpower of yours, to forgive with your whole heart. 

My other hope for you is that you will know, that you know, that you know….that you are worthy. I hope that you retain your tender heart. I hope that you keep your fiery spirit. I hope you never, ever forget that you are desperately loved. 

Michelle also loved poetry, so I am concluding this post with one of the best of them — Mary Oliver

“Starlings in Winter”

by Mary Oliver

Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,

dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine

how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.


We miss you so much, Michelle.

Changing It Up In The Garden

The raised bed at my house has been frustrating me. Each season I keep amending the soil only to find it going back to root balls and compact soil. This fall I have decided I have agency, and am going to completely redo the bed…into containers.

Normally, I wouldn’t go through the hassle since I have so little margin already with my time, but a fortuitous (but also sad) thing happened this month — our local horticulture supply store decided to close its doors forever and mark everything 50 percent off. So I went a little crazy (more on that in a minute) and one of the purchases was something I had never tried before — very inexpensive grow bags that have holes pre-punched in the bottom.

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I bought them in various gallon sizes and while I also obviously plan to use them for Maple Key, I have other places I can share the love of gardening such as the library I work at or the homeschool tutorial my children go to.

As you can see, I am still growing spindly, but producing okra right now, so I am doing the bed bit by bit. I am taking the compact, dusty soil (that’s partly my bad!) and putting it in a paint bucket, adding homemade compost and vermiculite to provide nutrients, good bacteria, and aeration for the soil. Then, I dish it back out in each bag.

I really think this is going to be much easier to manage than what I had been doing and it’s just one more reminder that you can always change what you’re doing in gardening if it’s not working for you! Nothing about gardening is locked in, so do what’s best for your season of life and environment.

Now onto my big purchase…!

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The other big change I am trying this year (again, thanks to the going-out-of-business sale) is vertical gardening. I bought a GreenStalk 7 tier planter with a bottom spinner! I was already excited about it (less pests, less bending down, right outside the door), but then I found out they are a local-to-Tennessee business, just up the road in Knoxville. That made me proud that this innovative, family-owned business is exporting such a great product all over the world! I even convinced my friend to buy a matching one with me and my mom to buy the 5 tier design, so we’re all planning for some great fall harvests.

After spending the money on the planter and the ProMix soil, I didn’t want to shell out for plants, so I started everything from seed. So far, the kale, spinach, bush beans, and radishes have all popped up and I am sure the others will, too at some point. This is another great experiment that I am hoping to bring to the library (so we can start our own library gardening programs) and the farm to add to our growing list of trials to see what grows!

Honestly, it’s great to have jobs that all tie into each other in some way, so that when I do good work over in one area, another one benefits from the new knowledge! At the library we are currently applying for a $1000 grant to get GreenStalk vertical gardens for the library so that we can make gardening accessible to all age ranges and demographics — children, elderly, differently abled.

I can’t wait to talk to Maple Key students about my new way of playing and planning in the garden that supplements what we’re doing in the traditional garden beds. My hope is to inspire them with even more things to put in their bag of gardening tricks for when they desire to start their own gardens. I want them to always carry a sense of play, have fun, learn new things 🙂

Administration as Necessity

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Tonight I sat down with my daughters at the dining room table preparing my heart to paint with my new watercolor set. I finally made the upgrade to watercolors in tube form instead of pre-made palette cubes. I got out two used palettes from the art table and realized that they had old paint in it from my daughter’s school and one new, completely blank palette that my husband planned to use. This posed an obstacle to my painting desires.

With the old palettes, they needed to be cleaned out to put new colors down. With my husband’s I had to choose which 20 colors I wanted to fill in the slots when I had 36 colors to choose from (including metallics!). In other words, I had to do the leg work of making decisions and preparing the palettes before I ever set down to do anything on the page.

Long story short, I never got around to doing anything other than adding some bronze highlights to something I had already painted because I was so tired from all the prep.

I saw this painting situation as a metaphor for administrative work. I had already spent hours earlier this morning working on contracts for tutors and getting dates lined up for events that aren’t even happening until close to the school year starting, but it involved salaries and per hour math, stipends, and the like so I had to make sure all the right names and amounts were listed on the documents. After the hours I spent glued to my computer, it felt like my summer with my girls was already dwindling away and it just started, though I knew logically there was still much free time to be had.

When you own your own business, administration is a part of the job even when you’d rather play or rest more. Intentionality is so much of what Maple Key does in every corner of the program and it shows through. A business doesn’t work if you show up and enable great things, but manage it poorly (Trust me, I have several doctor office stories to share on that front). So every year we try in small ways to work smarter, not harder. This year I am incorporating a task management component to doing work to keep me doing bite size chunks instead of being overwhelmed and communicate even better to others about what is expected in terms of deadlines.

Administration is hard to monetize. Most people don’t factor that in when considering the value of something. When my husband got his first job in the home office of an international missions organization, he said they never had enough donors willing to give to administration. Many sent gifts for a specific program they heard about overseas and demanded that 100% of it go to that country — the humdrum, behind-the-scenes work in an office building wasn’t compelling; however, the organization tried year after year to make people understand that the home office was vital to the organization’s health and existence.

This is the pep talk I must give myself –administration has a high, often unseen value — when I want to “have administered” instead of actually doing the “administrating”.

Modeling Writing in Real Time

“Hey! I have an idea for our tutoring time I’d really like to do today,” said my student as I sat down at her dining room table.

“Sure! What did you have in mind?” I said, waiting for a fun surprise.

“Next week is our last week together with the group and I wanted to write a poem for each of the girls who are graduating or leaving.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” I responded. “Let’s see how we want to go about doing that.”

So we sat at the table and gave her one example she could draw from if she chose. I showed her what I wrote for one of the graduating students to share in front of the other parents and students .

If I could give out an award for bravery, it would be all yours. You came into Maple Key last school year mere weeks after moving here to TN from your whole world in CA. As we listened to tales of your new life, your new house and new animals, it always made me wonder, “How is she handling all these new changes so well?” You came in each week willing to jump right in for gardening, watercolor, or a good laugh. If someone were looking in from the outside, they would have never known that you hadn’t lived here long or been a part of our group for years because you embraced your new life here. This year you rallied all the girls together not only to go to the middle school dance, but for you all to get ready together. The stories that came from that event – both anxious and hilarious – might not have happened if you hadn’t assured them that there would be something for everyone.  

One of the things I admire about you is that you don’t let setbacks get in your way because you believe there is a great big world out there for you to delight in and discover. I have seen time and time again, if you don’t know how to do something you always find a way to learn and adapt. If something annoys you, you have the self awareness to acknowledge it but don’t hold a grudge against the situation. You have a true entrepreneurial spirit, a jack of all trades who will be in high demand for whatever she sets her sights on in the future. But most of all, you are the kind, gentle big sister we needed this year. 

I told her that I would take these paragraphs and make it into a poem so she could see how I pulled out adjectives and ideas from what I wrote and included other things I knew about the student she was writing about.

A Long Journey

You did it:
– The plane rides that made you anxious
– Embracing a new set of friends
– Training new animals
– Becoming a DIYer

You are filled with:
– laughter
– leadership
– love
– delight
– dreams
– discovery

You share tales of your old life, as it tries to blend in with the new
– Gnarly
-Smoothies
-Sunshine
– Goats
– Horses
– Gardening

You always find a way to learn and adapt
You are the kind, gentle big sister we all needed this year

As I said, I just made that poem up on the spot, not trying to overthink any particular line. The point was not for my poem to shine, but for her to see a way forward as she visualized the person she was writing about and play around with form. Just that 5 minute little exercise gave her a boost to finish up her own inspired creative endeavor after I left.

When the time came, I was so anxious to hear what she had come up with! This 7th grader read her poems in front of the other students and parents with confidence. One of the students graduating was her older sister and when she shared the title “Trailblazer”, the waterworks were coming from many eyes in the room.

What a joy it is to be a part of that facilitation process where students’ ideas are incorporated and they can assess their own and others’ growth over time. Goodbyes are always hard at the end of the year, but seeing students leave with hearts and minds full and younger students ready for another year of inspiration in August certainly helps ease the transition of hugs and tears.

Featured Student Work: Literary Analysis by Emma

Friendships and Feuds: Learning to See Past Beefs in Strawberry Girl

We all have that friend that is complicated. The friend that is hard to deal with but not an enemy, just one you don’t get along with all the time.  Friendships are not something that you should take for granted, they are something to be cherished and well loved.  Some people can be hard to understand but once you get the feel of them you can see what they are like. In the book Strawberry Girl, two kids, Shoestring Slater and Birdie Boyer, share this kind of friendship. They are not friends all of the time, but they will come to one another if they need something.  The two kids have very different backgrounds, one came from Carolina and the other already from Florida, where the story is set.  They learn to be friends because their families are so different and because they are honest with each other as well as being literal neighbors and schoolmates.

Though the Boyers and Slaters are neighbors, they have very contrasting lifestyles. The Boyers have a lot of land and hard working animals and good, healthy children. The Slaters have less land, less food for their family, and they have animals who get less attention, therefore are less tame. The Boyers are polite and well looked upon because of their kindness to others. The Slaters are looked down upon because they are poor (we see Mr. Slater spending most of the little money they earn on alcohol). Also several of them (but not all) are obnoxious and rowdy. The fact that Shoestring is not like the rest of his family, being more sensitive and caring, he understands the Boyers more. He trusts Birdie and that makes it a lot easier for them to be friends. Birdie also trusts in Shoestring even if she doesn’t always trust his family. 

The first day Birdie went to school, she got a bad impression of the Slaters. Shoestring’s brothers attacked the teacher and that made Birdie more fearful of them. The brothers acted out of their shame, like most bullies do. Shoestring is different from his brothers because he does not have as much pride, but he also does not like to be looked down upon either. It seems like he is able to be a different person at school versus the pressure he feels to be like his dishonest father at home. At school he uses his literal name, Jefferson Davis Slater, instead of Shoestring, indicating he is different than his family. He wants to try and change things for the Slaters and sees the Boyers as perhaps a “new start”, even when his father forbids him to help them various times in the book. For instance, he still chooses to reach out to Birdie to tell her about the pliers in his father’s back pocket that he will use to cut the Boyer’s fence.

Later in the book, Birdie is proud to introduce Shoestring to the teacher, Mrs. Dunnaway, because he is different from his scary, bullying brothers. He assures his frightened teacher that he is not here to fight, but “come to git book-larnin’” (189). He shows more compassion and pays closer attention to his feelings than his family. She is not ashamed to be Shoestring’s friend and defends him because she has had experience with his capabilities. She tells Mrs. Dunnaway, ”But Shoestring…I mean, Jeff’s different!…He ain’t rough and wild like Gus and Joe!” (190).   
           
Even though they are good friends they can have conflicting feelings and they don’t always have the same point of view. This actually makes their friendship stronger. After Mr. Boyer chops off the top of Slater’s hog’s ear, Shoestring comes to warn Birdie as an act of friendship, but as a son still strongly defends his family. “Iffen your Pa don’t leave our hogs alone, Pa means what he says: he’ll git him yet! I just come over to tell you” (50). Birdie says, “her voice bitter with scorn” that Mr. Slater is being a coward by sending his son to be his messenger (51). After their shouting match they realized they didn’t want their Dad to get their guns out and escalate the situation. “Birdie thought for awhile. This was a surprise. It looked as if Shoestring didn’t want trouble any more that she did” (51).     

At the candy pulling event Birdie is looking to have fun, but she gets partnered with Shoestring who “was glum as if he were at a funeral” (88). Birdie wants to play with those who are able to enjoy the day and she has dismissive thoughts about Shoestring and his family even as he is trying to tell her why he’s upset. He trusts her and cares for her family enough to share his father’s malicious plots with her. Shoestring sees her as someone who is trusting, one of the few who can at times see past their poverty and his Dad’s foolish decisions. Birdie is always inviting the Slaters to events and to their house both because she has taken a liking to the Slater sisters and sees them as needing help. Thus, Birdie’s experience as an older sister helps her naturally take care of Shoestring’s younger sisters and his mother. She understands what they need and this dynamic helps strengthen the bond between her and Shoestring. 

We all have complicated friends, but to make the friendship work or not work it “takes two to tango”. Birdie and Shoestring both really want to be friends with each other and believe that the other person has their best interest in mind even when they raise their voices to each other. They don’t leave their problems hanging; they hash it out. They protect each other around their own family, they are honest with each other and defend each other. Strawberry Girl shows that two people from different places can become friends and trust one another by overcoming family differences and personality differences. Birdie and Shoestring provide a role model friendship for readers to experience.        

Works Cited Page

Lenski, Lois. Strawberry Girl. J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1945.
     

From time to time I will feature student work here on the blog (always with their permission). Emma and I worked on this essay in our 2024/2025 tutoring time after finishing Strawberry Girl by Lois Lenski. After given a list of options, she gravitated toward the themes around friendship. We brainstormed some contrast and comparisons and the paper was finished in about a month. Emma’s passionate voice and thoughtfulness really comes through in this paper and it’s no wonder because she herself is a loyal, welcoming friend. Taking a book written 80 years ago and infusing its meaning with modern eyes while keeping the integrity of the text is phenomenal for a 7th grader, and Emma pulled it off wonderfully. We also laughed at the title for the paper she came up with for 5 minutes after looking at thesaurus for conflict!

Composting as a Spiritual Habit

In certain educational circles you might hear about the classroom environment being the “3rd teacher” (the other two being adults and other children). It’s a concept that is only more recently being recovered in the classrooms accustomed to tidy front-facing desks and bright motivational posters instead of a more curious place for discovery of both self and others.

Obviously for Maple Key, the farm is doing a lot of work as the third teacher — the year round blooms (yes, we even see camellias in January!), the various animals, the winding creek, the structures like the various barns and MiMi’s house. Those things influence our art, our sense of belonging and stewardship, regional connections. But as we all know, life has many classrooms beyond just the ones we are required or choose to attend. That got me thinking about our first classrooms — our homes. What things do we absorb from those places? I zeroed in my thoughts and remembered a part of my home environment was compost.

Meet Benjamin, one of the baby goats on the farm!

My mom didn’t always have a compost tumbler (they weren’t as prolific as they are now), but certainly for the last 20 years. We were a thoroughly suburban family, but my guess is that she got that habit from her mom and dad whose families grew up on or around a lot of farm land in Dickson, TN. In the early 90’s my grandparents had a farmhouse built for them with a beautiful wrap around porch. They would have acres to grow things, my grandfather could ride his tractor around and they were set to enjoy their retirement years among friends and family. Unfortunately, Alzheimer’s had other plans for them as my grandfather was diagnosed with the debilitating disease only a few years into their wonderful rest. They had to make the difficult decision to sell their home and move to Soddy-Daisy to be closer to us, my aunt, and the nursing home facilities he would eventually need.

They moved to a ranch style home in a brand new subdivision and my grandmother wasted no time in carving out some little beds in their tiny yard for her zinnias, beans, cucumbers, and squash. It was such a small plot compared to what they had envisioned flourishing in Dickson, but my grandmother did it faithfully and we snapped beans on her screened in porch each year for her to can and put away.

As for our family, we had been settled in Chattanooga after bouncing around in Texas for a few years for my dad’s job, and my mom got into gardening, mainly daffodills and irises. Somewhere along the line she started saving her kitchen scraps which turned into compost tumblers which turned into feeding her beds rich, black compost for vegetable growing every year.

Both my new and old compost methods. Still using both.

As my mom would tell you, I would always put my scraps in the red Folgers jug she kept under the sink, but never really took any interest in gardening until after I got married and had a house of my own. Thanks to a steel compost pail and compost hut gifted from my in-laws, somehow I started the habit just like my mom if for nothing else than to keep food waste out of the trash can. Now it’s just like second nature for everyone in our house to recycle and compost. It’s just a way of life on our shady quarter acre lot. This year I am hoping to increase our compost yield by having bought a tumbler of my own and being more diligent to spin it (which takes the place of turning it in the swimming pool we had used exclusively) and process more so I can experiment with what can grow decently in the shade after some failed attempts in years’ past.

I tell this story just to say that it’s amazing how much we absorb from our “3rd teachers”. Those places we call home truly do shape us even if we can’t see it until decades later. My mom and grandmother never pressured me to continue on in their gardening footsteps, but whether I realized it or not there was always something noticeably peaceful and rewarding for them in the act of gardening and composting. To them, why would you not invest in these simple acts of beauty and stewardship in your daily life? The environment they prepared for me, even in very suburban settings, helped prepare me to desire a space like the farm that I could learn from as I teach alongside it. It helped me catch a vision for how the library and community center I work for can practice interdependence through our community gardening.

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Many of the girls in Maple Key are light years from where I was at at their age. Several compost and play in their own gardens or help their family plant things each year. They take me around their property before tutoring time and tell me stories about what grows where or what new plant they are trying out. They harvest basil for pesto and grow okra in the summer. They give me free plants. Of course some of them don’t garden but enjoy getting to indulge in it and work hard during our time on Tuesdays. They, like me, may never own a farm, but their many classrooms are teaching them valuable lessons on what it means to help something grow and tend it faithfully. This is a spiritual habit if there ever was one.

Have you ever stopped to consider what “environments” were your 3rd teachers? Particularly those things or spaces you perhaps unintentionally neglected but you can see with more clarity as you get older? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

HopeWords Conference 2024

When you own your own tutoring business, you have to research and pay for professional development for yourself. HopeWords has been a writing conference that is an easy place to say yes to every year. It’s located in the beautiful state of West Virginia which is actually a reasonable driving distance from us in Chattanooga, Tennessee. All the speakers sit out among the audience and eat at the same tiny restaurants as everyone else. Everyone just chats like it’s the most normal thing to do with strangers who write from all over the U.S.

This is my third year and I want to emphasize that one of the blessings of HopeWords is that they are making space for all ages at the conference. My oldest daughter, age 14, came this year and last year and Travis (the host), the other attendees, and the authors have welcomed, embraced, and challenged her. In her everyday life she is used to people mispronouncing and misspelling her biblical name. Many of the conference attendees when they met her said, “What a beautiful name” because they understood its biblical significance. Daniel Nayeri, the keynote speaker, signed her book and when I said offhandedly that she has 3 other sisters with Bible place names he said enthusiastically, “Ooh. Tell me all of them!” as we proceeded to have a short and lively conversation. The next day when he came in the restaurant where we were eating he boisterously (and so jolly-like!), pointed at all of us saying he knew us and we just laughed and waved right back at him going back to our conversation, like it was not odd to give a friendly wave to a Newbery award winner at dinner.

Our college friend, Amanda Opelt, sings and writes and was invited to welcome guests back into the afternoon sessions with her guitar. She asked our daughter a week before the conference if she would be willing to sing the high harmony with her on an Appalachian tune covered by the Wailin’ Jennys. When our daughter joined her on stage she introduced her as her friend, not my “college friends’ daughter” but a young woman worthy of her identity and relationship in her own right. Amanda even paid for appetizers at the local restaurant saying she owed her a portion of her honorarium.

Photographs by Cheryl Eichman

At the “after party” on Saturday we sat at a table with the men responsible for a lot of the revitalization projects going on in Bluefield, West Virginia. We had a riveting discussion on community development practices for 30 minutes. The undertone was about not giving up hope in hard places. My daughter said later it was a fascinating conversation and not at all what she thought we’d end up talking about with so many writers around!

It’s the little things like that that remind me why HopeWords is special. There is a deep respect for children and young adults within this Christian community of writers and community movers and shakers. The attendees treated my daughter like an adult. The speakers did the same in their speeches and in how they are truly the same humble people on and off the stage. Anyone involved with HopeWords welcomes and invites all into a life of writing, creativity, community, and curiosity. As an educator, I cannot think of a better mission for a conference.

This year I noticed there were many more young people than had come in the past and I hope the number of teens keeps rising as this conference continues to flourish. Our youngest daughter is in Kindergarten and she says she has “poem words” in her mind. She illustrates stories about pirates, animals, and princesses constantly. Maybe some day she will want to come, too?


Until next year,

Rachel

Featured Student Work: Book Review by Maryellen 


Whispering Trees: Book Review of The Singing Tree

The Newbery Medal once, the Newbery Honor Twice, and the Caldecott Honor all went to author and illustrator Kate Seredy. Seredy was born in Budapest, Hungary, in 1899. She grew up with a scattered family heritage, having grandparents from so many different places, and hearing all sorts of opinions and stories. She graduated from college with an art degree and moved to the U.S. soon after in 1922. She illustrated things to provide for herself while learning the English language. Her first book was The Good Master, a book based in Hungary with her as the main character. Four years later, when she wrote the sequel, The Singing Tree, she knew what war was like, having been a nurse in World War I, and was able to write about the hardships that came with it. She continued illustrating and writing books, many of which got notable honors and awards. She always considered herself more of an illustrator than a writer, creating until 1962, thirteen years before her death at age 75 (Young).

A website titled “A Tribute to Kate Seredy” claimed, “…the best of Seredy’s writing has auditory and visual qualities which draw readers in and carry them along” (Young). This is the first time I have read one of her books and I agree with this statement. In The Singing Tree, at the beginning of each chapter, there is a little traditional Hungarian picture which gives a sense of anticipation and motivation to help the reader continue. The artistry featured pictures at the end of each chapter that are less traditional but they go with the storyline, typically portraying something that happened in the chapter as a little reminder which for me, helped break up the text well.

The target audience for this book is probably early teens to young adults. The book isn’t too thick and loaded with information, yet it isn’t something that you can fly through and not miss anything. I liked that the chapters were easy to manage, taking about 10 to 15 minutes to read about a chapter and a half. The vocabulary and story line are good for teens about 12 up to maybe age 20.

I was surprised by The Singing Tree because I typically don’t prefer books that are historical facts and information. This one was historical fiction and I really enjoyed both the history as well as the style of writing. I knew that Seredy based some characters and settings on her experiences, but it made me wonder how much of the book was fiction and how much she actually experienced. Given her background, I wish Seredy told a little bit more about the war.  I understand why she refrained from talking about it, but I felt like if she was going to put a war in her story, there needed to be more context.  Every time Jansci’s father shared about his experiences in the war, it was about something important to the story but didn’t give too much context outside of that.

Seredy introduced many characters in The Singing Tree but one of the more important ones is Jansci, a Hungarian boy in his middle teens who values growing up and being a man. He is very thorough and tries to do the best that he can to be like his father, working on the farm and tending all the animals. Village life is all Jansci has known, caring for everything and others recognizing him for being hardworking and helpful. When his father gets called to the war, Jansci knows what to do on the farm because of community, tradition, and how his father has modeled it. Throughout the book he grows up during the worst parts of the war and continues to learn how to do these things without his father, enjoying more responsibilities and learning what he needs to know to be a Hungarian man. 

As Jansci is growing up in the village, with him is his cousin, Kate. She is a young teen girl who is very passionate about things, like her chickens. She will not let anyone harm the things that she loves. She struggles to accept all of the restrictions that come with growing up and the things she has to learn. She is in that transition stage between being childish and being a young woman. She still has to learn what the women in the village are called to do which means she has to put certain things aside. For instance, riding horses with Jansci is not how ladies ride horses and the way she dresses now cannot be like men.

I relate with both Kate and Jansci but in different ways. Kate’s determinedness is a lot like me in that she doesn’t give up and is almost always optimistic. Jansci has a sort of sturdiness and quietness to him that I also see a lot in myself. He is an observer of people and that is something that helps us both know a little about what to expect so as not to be caught off guard.

As well as Jansci and Kate, there are other kids in the village who are learning to see life differently. Lily is first seen as a spoiled young girl, having been badly influenced from a fancy school in Paris. She stays with Kate and Jansci while her father is in the war. She slowly gets to know the village and family better, beginning to love and appreciate the animals and farm life. She learns that tradition is supposed to be a cherished ritual, and should be treated with respect, as well as that each animal on the farm is necessary, just as much as each person has value. She has changed from her false “Paris identity” to appreciating the farm as where she belongs.

Seredy shows us how wars change the way people live, and how sometimes, well known truths change in ways that are devastating. Near the beginning of the book, during the war, Jansci is returning home and is required to pick up 6 Russian prisoners. They get stopped by a Hungarian soldier who is looking for one of the men from the village who ran from his duties in the war. He had received a letter that his wife, who had just had a baby, was sick. The soldier doesn’t know that within his load of prisoners Jansci is smuggling the man to their house. The soldier pities the man’s wife saying to Jansci, ”Son, it’s a crazy world when it’s a man’s duty to kill, and a sin to comfort his wife” (Seredy 156). He knows that traditionally it was a man’s job to comfort his wife and a sin to kill, but at the current time, it was the other way around. This was something completely different from their lives before the war. Just as also at the beginning of the book, they count the time by the things that are happening — when the maple turns red, then it’s time to pull the potatoes, etc., but near the end of the book, everybody is counting the time by different things, letters from fathers, nights until a holiday, days since the war started, and more all because of the war’s disruption. These things strengthen one of Seredy’s main themes, change (because of the war) vs tradition (the way of life before the war).

There were a few characters in The Singing Tree who were in denial about  the war and they had to accept that there would be some troubles ahead of them. The people have to accept that there will be change and that the traditional ways still remain, they are just altered. A large part of the book is about who the main people are, as well as who the village sees them being. Jansci, Kate and Lily find out what makes them unique and how they can use their special talents to help while the men are away at war. They have to find their identities and roles as young men and women. In a time of war, the farm animals gave the family at home a purpose and a reason to get up in the morning. They were a very subtle way to keep up hope while loved ones were away fighting. The animals provided a source of comfort and healing to families in the community.

No matter what nationality people are, they understand without speaking, the chores that need to be done and the way to do household things. The barrier of language doesn’t matter; the plow will look the same. When people from different areas come in, they help around the farm without asking what to do or how to do it. In the war, both sides are fighting, but they know that this is not the way to settle disagreements. Jansci’s mother realized that the Russian prisoners she took in did not want to fight. They wanted to be at home with their families just like she was. She knew that the country’s leaders were to blame, not the men. She says, ”Why should I mind? They are men, like ours. Maybe… if we are good to them… they’ll write home too, like Sandor, and say that we are kind and maybe some Russian woman will say to her husband or son: ‘Don’t aim your gun too well; they are just simple people like we are’” (Seredy 142-145). It is such a good quote to describe how life during the war affected people on both sides.

The war from Seredy’s Hungarian childhood had a really hard impact on her life and she based this book on her experiences growing up and what she gathered from that. She saw war and suffering and greatly disliked it. She saw how it tore families apart and disrupted daily life. She put a lot of great lessons into her writing that can still apply today – the truth of coming of age and the theme of love without barriers helps the book into a deeper meaning that you have to dig for. She reminds us that we don’t have to speak the same language or fully understand, to help and work together to get the work done. Seredy wanted to teach us there are deep lessons in tradition. As Jansci’s father said, “‘Whispering trees,’ he went on gently as if speaking to them,’they have weathered many storms. Some of them are broken and almost dead, but new shoots are springing up from their roots every year. Those roots grow deep in the soil, deeper than the trees are tall. No one could kill them without destroying the very soil they grow in; what they stand for lives in the hearts of all Hungarians. Nothing could kill that without destroying the country.’” (Seredy 39).




Works Cited

Seredy, Kate.The Singing Tree. New York, Penguin Group,1990.

Young, Linda M. “A Tribute to Kate Seredy, Author and Illustrator.” Flying Dreams, http://home.flyingdreams.org/seredy.htm. Accessed 18 November 2023.


From time to time I will feature student work here on the blog (always with their permission). Maryellen wrote this over a few months in 2023/2024 during our one hour tutoring time each week after reading The Singing Tree. Maryellen is a big reader who is very methodical and observant. I love her keen sense of literary analysis and ability to make textual connections with the world around her as well as other texts. She worked diligently and patiently on this project from drafting to revising to editing!

The Local Library

Last month I got a new job. I didn’t quit my old one, but added to my repertoire as they say.

I was a library assistant my senior year of high school and considered for a while becoming a librarian, but it didn’t really fit with my college choice and I wasn’t sure if I was up for grad work right away in order to get the job I wanted. So I let that dream go and life has swept me along thinking about it every now and again…

I guess the Lord didn’t want me to forget about that pursuit when we realized our house was within walking distance of the local library (also a 3 minute drive). It’s located in the city hall complex on the backside with no flashy sign, so many people don’t know it’s there. Near the building is a newly redone playground and splash pad and dog park that helps draw people in. My family has been going there for over 12 years and having 4 kids meant racking up a lot of stroller miles over that time.

Fast forward to now… a longtime library employee, who we loved dearly, recently moved. All the employees shifted up in positions which left the 8 hour a week spot open. They asked me if I wanted to join on and doing some creative support, event help, and behinds the scenes grunt work. They said this position has no set hours and my kids are always welcome to come with me. How could I say no?

My co-worker (who is an incredible artist!) made a stencil and I chalked this outside the library for Dino-vember

So I have run Bingo for the older crowd, wrapped boxes for movie time photo ops, shelved books, taped and stamped books, chalked dinosaur feet, helped people locate graphic novels, cut out crafts for storytime, organized craft items. Ironically, through doing this varied work it confirmed my choice to not become a full-fledged librarian who acquires books and labels things, etc. I have to have a lot of variety in my jobs, so being behind a desk all the time isn’t what I am built for. I have to move which is probably why I became a teacher instead.

I am excited about giving back in a small way to a place that has given so much to my children and so many others over the years — a community area that really is like a second home and a safe space to them. When I work (now as an official employee of my city) I see all the many faces of my community and even my own literal neighbors. That was the part I didn’t consider when I was dreaming about books as an 18 year old, but I see it so clearly now. These “3rd spaces” (places that are not home or work) are vital for populations to flourish.

For the Love of Handwriting

Can you picture in your mind the handwriting of someone close to you?

I can see my dad’s tiny angular script for lists and labeling. I can see my mom’s crisp, legible rounded letters almost connected like cursive (very much like her organized self). I can see my husband’s almost-shorthand with quick letters that make sense to him because he has to take so many notes for work and classes. I can see my own teacher-informed style written on whiteboards and handmade cards with equal parts legibility and could-be-a-font.

I started down this line of thinking because of a piece of paper my youngest daughter brought home form her Kindergarten co-op. I saw her name written at the top by her teacher, who by God’s eternal goodness, happens to be one of my college roommates. Seeing her script at the top of the paper was sort of like the cherry on top as I was already excited about her knowing my daughter as a learner in the classroom.

My roommate was an incredible elementary education major and hearing about all the passion, fun, and child-centered respect she brings to the kids in her class each week reminded me of all the notes we passed back in forth in education classes before the days of cheap personal laptops and WiFi being strong enough to carry the load. I still have shoeboxes of notes and memorabilia in my closet from each year of college, filled with the handwriting of all my friends from those 4 years.

Perhaps what I am encouraging all of us to do is to welcome being surprised by the little joys in life, like handwriting. When the people we love are no more we will hang on to many memories of how their life intersected with ours and one of the most unsuspecting things is through something that is uniquely them — their words scrawled on a piece of paper.